Three Minutes
by shitthisisawkward
Summary: Sequel to Countdown /s/7510358/1/Countdown] Santana and Blaine have been going out for years without a single hitch. Then Santana finds herself with a problem and completely emotionally unequipped to handle it.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys, so here it is... long awaited sequel to Countdown. If you haven't read that here's the link: s/7510358/1/Countdown. I hope you like it! Don't worry, it's not going to be as predictable as you think, give me some credit jeez.**

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Anyone who had children, or had ever been in a physical relationship would understand what Santana meant when she said that it was during those three minutes you had to wait while watching that disgusting peed on stick that a girl understood just how long a minute was.

60 seconds in a minute. That's 'one Mississippi' multiplied by sixty. Three minutes? That was 180 seconds. A whole 180 'Mississippi's.

Not to mention the fact that the thing was completely gross. I mean, you're basically staring at your own piss on a stick.

There was a knock on the door to the bathroom stall, shaking Santana from her thoughts.

"It's fucking occupied. _¡Ocupado, vale!" _Santana hissed, aiming a kick which left the door shaking on its hinges.

In hindsight a public bathroom was not the perfect place to do this, but she didn't really have any other choice. She couldn't do it at home, Warbler would find it and start asking her questions.

She rolled her eyes, _the questions_. Oh she could hear them now. _'What's this, San?' 'Are you pregnant?' 'Why didn't you tell me?'_

And then would come the reaction, and because it was Blaine she knew it would be worse than any other… he'd be happy. _'Oh that's great, San!' 'This is such good news!' 'I'm so excited!'_

He wouldn't understand.

He would realise that this was not good. This was possibly one of the most shit things that had ever happened to her – in her whole life! And Santana had dealt with some pretty shit things.

She pinched the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb.

She was only 25. She still had another 5 years of having fun ahead of her before she'd even think of settling down and having kids.

She wasn't ready to give up her body for a _baby_. She wrinkled her nose and looked at her stomach fearfully. She wasn't ready for baby weight, or big thighs and a jiggly ass.

Or God forbid - Santana instinctively raised her hand to her hair, raking it through it nervously – _cellulite and stretch marks! _

Santana chewed on the right corner of her lower lip. Blaine wouldn't get it, he'd say it was a miracle or some sappy shit like that, being the perpetually happy person he was. (Seriously, he never stopped smiling. Ever. It was frustrating to no end.)

Then it was time, the three minutes were up and Santana found herself squeezing her eyes tightly shut. For the past three minutes she'd wanted nothing more than for the waiting to be over. Now that she had the chance to find out the answer to her questions, Santana just wanted to wait some more.

Eventually she gave in, her stomach full of angry, ravaging butterflies. She opened one eye and squinted at the test in her hands.

She sat there for a few more minutes, just staring open-mouthed at the pregnancy test. She didn't know how she was meant to react.

Finally, she put the test in the sanitary bin and stood up, her limbs like lead. She picked up her bag and pushed it up over her shoulder, unlocking the bathroom door and moving across to wash her hands.

Santana looked in the mirror, her face a mask, showing no signs of the mess of conflicted emotions within. She reapplied lipstick and ran a hand through her hair and left the bathroom.

She walked back to her car, the strangest feeling filling her. She felt hollow, full of air, like she could float away at any moment, yet at the same time she felt like her body was filled with liquid lead and it was a battle to even remain standing upright.

As she drove home, Santana must have passed at least 20 mothers strolling with their children.

Some were happy families; a father, a mother, a baby and a child. Everyone was laughing, the little kid would shriek with laughter as he was lifted to sit atop his father's shoulders. And as Santana pulled away, she'd watch the tired parents share a look of pure awe and delight as they watched their happy child.

Santana couldn't take it. She just couldn't handle it. It was all a load of shit. This wasn't meant to happen. Not to her anyway. Not to Santana. She didn't even want kids.

Why was this happening? How was any of this fair?

Santana coughed out an angry tearless sigh and pulled into her parking spot in the underground car park of the complex she lived in with Blaine.

She checked her watch, he'd be home. Santana closed the car door with a slam and made her way up to the apartment, her head swimming.

She turned her key in the lock, hearing that satisfying click as she pushed the door open. Blaine was in the kitchen, cooking. Santana had barely closed the door before she was assaulted by the smell of the food.

Her stomach heaved and Santana ran past Blaine and into the bathroom, kicking the door closed behind her. Having emptied the contents of her stomach into the porcelain bowl of the toilet, Santana sat back, leaning her head against the cold tiled wall of the bathroom and tried to get her breath back.

So much for _morning _sickness.

Blaine knocked on the door.

"Can I come in, San? Are you okay?"

Santana grunted in reply, which Blaine obviously took to be a yes as he opened the door in return.

He knelt down beside her and put a hand to her forehead, checking her temperature. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Santana just shrugged her shoulders, her body operating faster than her mind. She wanted to tell him, but her lips were clamped tightly shut, refusing to allow her to do so.

Blaine sat down beside her and put a comforting arm around Santana's shoulders. Before Santana realised what she was doing – before she could stop herself, she found herself crying.

Santana Lopez was actually seriously physically crying. With real tears and everything!

The tears rolled down her cheeks and she found it harder and harder to get enough air into her lungs, taking deep shuddering breaths, but Blaine didn't say anything, he just stroked her hair and 'shh'd her comfortingly.

He had this effect on her, and in all the years of knowing him, Santana didn't know how to stop it. He just brought out this _emotional _side to her. She hated it.

She even said 'love' when she was around him. _Love._

Lying in bed that night, with Blaine asleep beside her, Santana realised that this man was possibly the most decent human being she had ever met.

Would it be that bad to have his baby?

And that was when the apparently-morning-but-not-quite-morning sickness came into effect again.

The answer to her question?

Yes.

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**You all know the rule. Reviews = updates so hop to it!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so I really hope that you'll all like this story as much as you seemed to like Countdown. I got a fair few faves and follows for it so I thought hey sure why not update? So here goes**

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Two nights in a row when herself and Blaine had sat down for their little tradition of sorts to watch TV and whatever, she'd fallen asleep five minutes in with her head on his lap and he'd had to carry her to bed.

Two other nights she had to go to bed and leave Blaine to watch TV alone, suffering with a headache that felt like her brain was going to explode out of her skull.

Another night she'd sat there eating McDonalds fries dipped in ice-cream, much to the bewilderment of Blaine.

That Saturday night, they sat down to their take-away food, it was Chinese tonight, but Santana took one look at it and wrinkled her nose delicately. She picked up her fork and started poking around at her plate, twirling the noodles around it.

She nodded where appropriate and gave the occasional sound of response to show Blaine she was listening as he chatted away.

She only really half listened to his story about how the lad spelled his name at Starbucks, and pretended to laugh when he told her that joke that some guy had told in work, and was beginning to zone out when he said something that made her blood run cold.

Blaine laughed and lifted a forkful of egg fried rice to his mouth. "What with all the tiredness and getting sick, and your weird cravings and headaches you'd swear that you were pregnant," He was joking, but that didn't stop Santana from shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

She chewed her food slowly, feeling like she was chewing a mouthful of rubber. She set her fork down at the side of her plate with an audible clatter and swallowed uncomfortably.

Blaine set down his fork, raising his eyebrows, recognising the look on her face.

"_Santana,_" He prompted, mouth falling open slightly.

Santana pushed back her chair back and stood up, brushing invisible specks of dirt off the front of her jeans and picking up her plate to put it in the sink. She washed her hands, completely unreactive, not responding to Blaine.

"Santana…_are_ you pregnant?"

Santana turned around to face Blaine, leaning with her back against the kitchen counter top. She pursed her lips, eyes to the ground.

Blaine licked his lips and exhaled slowly, eyes searching her face for a reaction. A flicker of emotion. Anything.

But he saw nothing. Her mask was firmly in place.

"Santana, look at me,"

She raised her head and took in quick shallow breaths, meeting Blaine's eye.

"Are you pregnant?"

Santana was silent for a minute, seriously considering getting up and walking out, or telling him that she wasn't, but his eyes watched her imploringly, leaving her with no other choice.

"Surprise," She answered hoarsely, pursing her lips, her tone even.

Blaine's eyes widened and Santana watched as he struggled to take in the news. First shock, wide eyes, slightly parted lips. Then confusion, knitted brows, hands raking through hair. Then worry, chewed lips and tight jaw. Then surprise again.

Santana exhaled loudly, quickly growing impatient.

"Pregnant," Blaine repeated, the word was no more than a whisper. Then, as if that – repeating it to himself – had somehow snapped him from his thoughts, he stood from his seat.

A wide grin broke across his face as he repeated himself yet again. "Pregnant," This time he was louder.

Blaine said it again and again, his smile growing each time, his eyes alight. Santana laughed, "Okay, okay, we get it," She said, finding herself smiling to match his, it was just infectious.

He crossed the kitchen in two strides to wrap his arms around her in the biggest hug ever. He kissed every piece of her he could manage; her hair, her shoulders, her forehead, her nose, the dimples in her cheeks.

Santana spluttered with laughter and half tried to push him away, no motivation behind her actions.

Blaine took her face in his hands, forcing her to look up at him, "I love you," He said simply, claiming her lips with his before she could reply.

Santana brought her hand up to cup Blaine's own hand and smiled into the kiss, eyes closed. "You too," She mumbled, grinning.

"How far along are you?"

Santana shrugged, waving a hand in the air. "I don't know,"

Blaine pressed another kiss to her lips briefly, "Well what did the doctor say?"

Santana frowned slightly, putting her hands on Blaine's shoulders, holding him at arm's length. "What doctor?"

Blaine's brows furrowed and he tilted his head to the side. "How long have you known?"

Santana once again shrugged. "A week and a half? Two weeks? I don't know."

"And you haven't gone to the doctor?"

"Why would I go to a fucking doctor?"

"You're _pregnant_."

"I'm pregnant, not _dying,_"

"San, it's not just you we have to take care of anymore. There's a little person growing inside you who's relying on you,"

Santana shuddered and pushed away from Blaine, "_Don't _say that," she snapped.

"Say what? That there is a _baby _in you? Because there is!"

"_Stop!" _

Santana's jaw was set and her pulse was racing, her stomach felt sick.

Blaine tried again, more gently. "San, that baby – _our _baby – needs you to take care of yourself better than ever before."

Santana completely rejected what Blaine was trying to say, grabbing her coat and leaving the apartment, leaving the door swinging wide open behind her, deaf to his shouts.

She sat in the car, freaking out. She felt like no matter what she did, she couldn't fill her lungs with enough air. Her head was spinning and her stomach heaved nauseatingly.

She couldn't do this, she couldn't handle this. She wasn't cut out for motherhood, or pregnancy or anything. Even the faintest idea that there was something _growing _inside her, living off of what she ate and drank, for nine months, made her want to throw up.

She looked down at her stomach, horrified. There was a _baby _in there. A bunch of cells that would pop out in nine months as a little person.

Like a cake in the oven.

Santana felt her stomach heave and she pulled over the car, hopping out and slamming the door closed behind her, only just making it to the grass verge on the side of the road before she emptied the contents of her stomach out onto the grass.

Her nose burned and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, making her way back to the car, shaking.

She sat in the driver's seat, quaking like a leaf. She felt like she could just blow away at any minute.

Santana knew that that was not the not-quite-morning sickness.

How was she meant to do this? How could she handle 9 months of this?

How could she deal with an actual pregnant belly?

Santana was not meant to be dealing with this sort of thing. Not now, maybe not ever.

She felt so trapped, she couldn't have an abortion, that just went against everything she stood for. She couldn't just start playing God. But at the same time, she couldn't go through with this.

Blaine didn't understand – wouldn't understand.

Nobody would!

And soon enough people would find out, she could imagine the whispers at work, and the pure mortification when she started showing.

What's worse is that people would probably try and actually congratulate her, while slyly saying that she was a fucking hippo. _"Oh wow, you're really big for 6 months, aren't you?" "Big baby!"_

Santana's lip curled at the thought of it.

Oh god, the congratulations. They'd be the worst part. And she'd have to pretend to be happy about it, she'd have to pretend this wasn't the most life-ruining thing that had ever happened to her.

Santana pinched the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb, her head thumping, awash with all the information.

There were so many women out there who were trying desperately to get pregnant but couldn't, why on earth was she picked? Why did it have to be Santana?

It wasn't _fair! _

Santana groaned audibly, she couldn't do this. And she'd have to take time off work whether she liked it or not.

She wasn't quitting her job when the baby was born.

No way, that wasn't happening in any universe.

The thing could have a sitter or something.

Tears spilled out from the corners of her eyes. This wasn't fair, not on her, or the baby. She didn't want this baby.

If she wasn't sure that Blaine would be a great father, Santana would have just put the kid up for adoption, because she couldn't do this.

Santana a mother?

Ha, no thanks.

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**So yeah. Review pleeease. How am I supposed to write a story you guys like if you don't tell me?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guysssssssssssssssss. So here is chapter 3.**

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Days passed and Santana still refused to visit a doctor, secretly maintaining that if she didn't think about this pregnancy, it would somehow have magically never happened.

One day - no luck.

Two days - Blaine's attempts were dismissed.

Three days – Santana still blatantly refused.

Four days – Blaine tried (and failed) to trick her into it.

Five days – Santana continued to refuse to do so.

Six days – A desperate Blaine started begging.

Those days turned into a week, then two weeks, then three. Blaine had tried absolutely all he could but Santana just point blank refused to do as he asked.

In fact, she refused to speak about the whole _baby_side of the pregnancy at all. You want to talk about cravings? Sure, she was game. How about mood-swings? Go for it. Headaches? Nausea? Back aches? Tiredness? Her constant need to pee? Ah why not.

The fact that there was someone _growing _in her? No. No way. Off limits. Try that and you could just piss right off. And pick up a McDonalds while you're at it? Please and thank you.

However, exactly three weeks and two days after the day that she had told Blaine about the baby, over a month since she'd known herself, something happened that made her run out to her boyfriend, grab her coat and ask him to bring her to the hospital with shaking hands.

They sat in the car completely silent, Blaine sneaking worried glances at Santana, who was whiter than ever, wringing her shaking hands anxiously.

"What's wrong?" He asked, eyes wide. He hadn't seen her like this before.

Santana's chest rose and fell quickly, panicked, shallow breaths reaching her lungs.

"I went to the bathroom and," She began, her voice strained and hoarse with unshed tears. "Oh, Blaine!" Santana brought a quivering hand up to cover her mouth, tears filling her eyes.

Blaine reached out a hand to take hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "San, talk to me, what happened?" He asked, worriedly, glancing at her.

Santana inhaled slowly, shakily. Blaine glanced to the trembling girl beside him, continuing in an undertone. "Did you… did you _lose the baby_?" He asked, his voice breaking slightly.

This earned a loud sob from Santana. "I don't know, Blaine, I don't know, I don't know any of this stuff. All I know is there was blood," Tears spilled out and rolled down her cheeks as quiet sobs racked her trembling body.

Blaine bit down hard on his lip and told himself to keep it together for her sake, giving her hand another squeeze and murmuring gentle words of comfort to her. "Don't worry, San. Don't worry,"

By the time they had eventually arrived at the hospital, Santana had calmed down. The only visible signs of her fear were her shaking hands the whole time they were talking to the doctor.

"Okay, what seems to be the problem here?"

"Eh well, I was using the restroom, when I noticed some blood. I freaked out. I really don't know what to expect. I just panicked and came straight here,"

Her voice was even, but her hands quaked like leaves in the wind. Her blood was like ice, fear had injected itself into her very veins.

The doctor nodded slowly and told her he'd run some tests and take a look, if that was okay with her.

The next hour was a blur, she had blood tests done, samples of her urine were taken and the doctor had a nice (bit too long for Blaine's liking) look at her cervix.

But it was the ultrasound which had the biggest effect on the pair. The jelly was cold and Santana flinched slightly at first, but it soon warmed up.

After a bit of hunting around, the doctor finally found the baby, leading to reactions of completely opposite degrees from Santana and Blaine.

For Blaine it was indescribable. It was breath taking. This right here, on screen, was his son or daughter. This was the person he'd wake up at ungodly hours for. This was who he would teach to swim and ride a bike. He'd take them to ball games, and soccer practise.

He'd be a shoulder to cry on when she got her first broken heart, or a source of guidance when he was going on his first date. He'd drive this child to college, take them by the shoulders and tell them to "Go get 'em," before giving them a bone crushing hug.

This baby on screen, this could be the little girl he'd walk up the aisle. And someday this little blob on the sonogram would be in the exact same position as him, watching their baby – his grandchild.

Blaine watched wide eyed, listening to the lyrical _badum badum badum _of the heartbeat.

"Wow," He breathed, in awe.

On the other hand, for Santana, it was the scariest thing she had ever witnessed. She felt panic rising in her, threatening to swallow her whole. A sea of terror rose over her, ready to drown her at any second. Her breathing became shallower and more rapid.

This was all fine and good for Blaine, or anyone else to think was amazing. For her it was plain terrifying. It just cemented the fact that she was pregnant. There was no more hoping the test was wrong. It was happening.

This baby on screen, the blob of cells, it was _connected _to her. Its life literally depended on her well-being. This was it for nine months. There was no taking off the bump and saying "you know what, I think I'll have a day off," having a break and relaxing. It was 24/7 for 9 months.

There was a living thing physically connected to her womb.

Santana exhaled through gritted teeth, "Wow," she repeated, her panic not searing her tones.

It was all she could do not to give into a fit of panic.

When to Santana's relief the doctor finished the ultrasound, he returned with test results to discuss with the pair what it appeared was happening.

"Well the good news is that the baby is safe and sound,"

Blaine exhaled a sigh of relief, giving Santana what she assumed was a reassuring hand squeeze.

"We think you're just experiencing a bit of cervical ectropion, Ms Lopez. It's very common and is nothing to worry about. Basically, the cells in your cervix are beginning to change and that just makes them that bit more prone to bleeding at the moment. It will pass. That said, if it does get any heavier, please do come back to us."

Santana gave a silent nod of understanding. "And how far along am I?"

The doctor checked the chart in his hand briefly. "From what I can tell, between eight and nine weeks,"

Santana exhaled stiffly through her nose, her lips pressed into a firm line. She gave another nod.

"Well, if that's all then if you'd make your way out to the reception and make an appointment for your next check-up that would be great." The doctor smiled, pausing briefly before sweeping out of the white room and out onto the corridors.

"Well that was…" Blaine waved his hand about in the air, struggling to find the right words to describe the feeling of pure amazement which had washed over him.

_Brutal? Horrifying? Scary? Creepy? Weird? Odd? Disturbing? Paralysing? _Santana thought bitterly, chewing silently on the corner of her lower lip.

The car journey home was spent with Blaine talking away about how cool that was to see the baby in the ultrasound while Santana looked out the window and tried to block out the noise of his voice.

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The following night, Santana sat beside Blaine on the couch, watching The Big Bang Theory on TV. She sat with her feet tucked up under her bum and rested her head on her elbow.

Her eyes fluttered closed before she jumped awake several times, determined not to fall asleep on Blaine again.

"C'mere, lay your head down," Blaine suggested gently. Santana did as she was told moving to lie her head on Blaine's lap, facing out towards the TV.

He stroked her silken hair soothingly, his thumb tracing circles on her bare shoulder. Santana yawned quietly.

"Hey, remember that time when I turned up at your house and we watched this?" She asked tiredly, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

Blaine chuckled. "If I remember rightly, you turned up with beer and pizza and basically demanded I let you crash on my couch, before proceeding to turn off Toddlers and Tiaras and turn this on,"

She laughed and gave a small shrug. "I have to get things done one way or another,"

"We watched this for hours that night,"

Santana's eyes fluttered closed once again. "Mhm," She murmured, nodding sleepily.

Blaine gave a small smile and watched as his girlfriend's breathing slowed, her chest rising and falling rhythmically.

"Night, San," He murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple before leaning back in his seat to watch the end of the episode.

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**So yeah, review, fave, follow... (preferably review) and I'll update as soon as possible.**


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